Living in the Past
by vanillapeachtea
Summary: Romano remembers it all. Especially the day when he heard Spain try to trade him for his perfect little brother. He hasn't let himself forget, but can Spain help to change that?
1. curiosity kills

**A/N: Yes, this is another one of those Lovino is insecure fics… I just love them so much that I had to write one myself! And sorry to the people reading my Harry Potter fic, I'm just not feeling it right now so I'm going to try to get some inspiration then I will for sure put up another chapter! \^.^/ also, I don't have a beta so all my mistakes are my own, and I don't actually speak any of these languages so feel free to correct any of my translations.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the characters.**

~V~P~T~

Romano rested his head against the dark oak wall of his bedroom. He was, once again, wallowing in a pit of self-pity. He crushed the photo in his hand into a ball he brought it up to his face, bringing the lighter he was holding up to the edge, almost immediately lighting it.

He watched the flames dance as they started to consume the edge of the face that you could see through all of the crinkled lines and scratches that was the ball of ruined photo, and the past it held inside were eaten as though by termites. He didn't need to see the photo again. He would always remember every little detail it contained; the way the light hit Antonio's perfect face, the way that joy reflected from the grass green eyes and onto the figure by his side. Or at least one of the figures.

The photo had been taken on a glorious summer day in Spain. It was taken when Romano was young, shortly after he had been taken in by Spain. Italy was visiting with Austria. It was taken a day before the fateful afternoon that he overheard Spain begging Austria to give him his little Ita-chan, offering to trade Romano over in exchange. Romano remembers that day well. He should, after all he thinks about it daily. A daily reminder of how useless, unwanted, and unloved he was.

_**Flashback**_

_Romano was sitting in a field next to his brother, eating a tomato. His brother kept on trying to hug him and Romano kept on kicking him away, but Italy wasn't going to give up. _

"_Ve~ Fratello! All you need is a hug and you'll be much happier!"_

_Romano sneered and shoved his brother away from him, wondering what could possibly be taking Spain so long. Spain had promised to take them both to his tomato patch later, and that he would be with them soon. That had been half an hour ago. Romano's limited patience had run out half an hour ago._

"_Where is that Tomato Bastard? He said he would be here half an hour ago! That idiota." Romano stood, carefully holding his half eaten tomato in one hand as he brushed himself off. "I'm gonna go see what is taking that merda testa this long."_

"_Ve~ okay fratello! I'm going to go play with the tartaruga!" Romano shook his head in disgust, his curl bouncing, as he watched his younger twin frolic off to play with Spain's pet turtle. He turned around and walked up to the house and opened the door._

"_Hey! You damn tomato bastard, where are you?" Romano yelled, walking into the empty kitchen and picking up a new tomato off of the table. He wandered through the living room but Spain wasn't there either. Romano figured that since he was talking to Austria, it must be about important nation stuff, whatever that was, so they were probably in Spain's office upstairs._

_Climbing the staircase, Romano could almost hear the sounds of their voices, so being the curious little Italian he was, he stopped just outside the door and listened in, opening the door just a crack. The door must have been fairly soundproof, as the once soft voices raised quite dramatically. Austria sounded irritated, in his usual haughty way that always made Romano's blood boil, and Spain was _begging?_ Really? Spain? Romano hadn't thought that the idiota could be anything but happy. He tuned in on what they were saying to try and solve the mystery of the unhappy Spaniard._

"_Por favor, Austria! I've laid out several reasonable arguments! Why won't you just let me have the adorable little Ita-chan?"_

_Romano felt his blood run cold. Italy? His fratello? Spain wanted his fratello? Why? Wasn't Romano enough for Spain? Or maybe he just wanted to collect them both._

"_There is no way! I value Italy's art and economy far too much. You shall never be permitted to have him."_

"_There must be something that I can give you in exchange?" Spain paused, apparently thinking. "Romano."_

_Romano started, freezing and thinking that he'd been caught, but then Spain continued talking and he realized that that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all._

"_I'll give you Romano. That's a good exchange right? One Italy for another."_

_There was a pregnant pause. Then, Austria, who was sitting on the couch across from Spain's desk burst out laughing, in the most dignified way possible of course._

"_You think that that is a fair exchange? You want my Italy, who can cook, clean, produce beautiful art, and has a lovely nature, for your Romano? What can Romano even do? He is unhelpful, unfriendly, and can't even cook or clean to save his life. The only thing he can ever do right is cause trouble for people."_

_Spain said nothing, and that silence alone was enough to completely break little Roma's heart. He felt some wetness on his fingers and realized that he had squeezed his tomato so hard that it had oozed between his little fingers, but for once in his life, he didn't care about wasting a perfectly good tomato. He was crying silently and as he heard Spain and Austria stand up to leave, he quickly ran for the back door of Spain's house and out into the dark forest. He didn't stop until he was in so deep, the only living things anywhere near him were the forest animals. And maybe France if he was busy creepy him, the pervert._

_Romano sat down of a patch of damp leaves and cried. The tears falling from his eyes like miniature waterfalls. He pressed his fists into his eyes so hard that little spots of colour started to appear in his vision. _

_Damn it!_

_Damn it all!_

_Nobody wanted him. He was unwanted. He was unloved. Everyone wanted _sweet perfect little Italy_. Not the useless lump that was Romano. Rome had chosen Italy. Holy Rome had wanted Italy. And now even Spain, the one country he thought might _actually _care just a _little_ had wanted Italy, had not wanted him. He was useless, a waste of space. Like Austria had said, he was only causing everyone trouble by being around. Even Italy would be fine without him; he was so loved that the little black spot that was his pathetic twin wouldn't be missed._

_He collapsed onto the ground, pressing his eyes even harder. And there, alone on the cold wet ground in the forest was where he made a vow, a vow of loneliness. He vowed that as long as he lived, he would never forget that he was the most unwanted country to ever have lived. The while he was living for his people, no one was living for him, and they never would. He would forever remember._

~V~P~T~

_With Italy:_

"_Ita-Chan! Where is Roma~?" Spain called as he walked up to Italy and caught him in a swinging hug, burying his face in his soft hair._

"_Fratello isn't with you? He went to look for you, big brother."_

"_Hm" Spain frowned. He certainly hadn't seen Romano at all around the house. Then he smiled brightly down at the mini Italian in his arms. "He probably found a tomato and went for a walk! Let's not worry! I'm sure he's fine! Now, let's eat some delicious tomatoes!"_

"_Ve~ Pomodoro!"_

_And so the too happy countries walked off, and soon forgot about the small nation that was sobbing in the forest. _

_But he would never forget._

**End flashback.**

_**To be continued… **_

~V~P~T~

**Translations:**

Fratello: brother (Italian)

Idiota: Idiot (Italian)

Merda tests: Shit head (Italian)

Tartaruga: Turtle or tortoise or something (Italian)

Por favor: Please (Spanish)

Pomodoro: Tomato (Italian)

A/N: R&R to tell me what you think! I don't know how long it'll take to update, as I have another story on the go, but this one should only be 2-3 chapters long, so its shorter.


	2. boxes

**A/N: Thank you so much for all of your reviews! I honestly didn't think this story would be that popular! Or at least I suppose that Spamano is that popular XD at least to me it is! Anyway I don't know what to say so on with the show… story… thing…**

~V~P~T~

The memory of that day was Romano's strongest memory of his childhood. The things that he had heard… The way that he had felt, was still burned into his mind. He had become even nastier and bitterer for a while following that day, leaving a bad taste in the mouth of everyone he met. He didn't understand how Spain could possibly stand living with him, but then he supposed that he was just a replacement for his little brother. _Perfect little Italy. _

Romano dropped the burning photograph on the floor, stomping on it to ensure it didn't light any of his other possessions on fire. He kept the photo as naught but a reminder of happier times, when he had believed that Spain was _happy_ living with him, when he felt loved.

But, as he listened to the laughter echoing up from downstairs from Italy and Spain as they made pasta together, the good kind, not the kind that Romano made that always looked just like road kill, he couldn't take it anymore. The little shreds of happy memories that occasionally rolled through his thoughts like tumbleweeds were all gathered, forced, and locked into a small dark box that resided in the corner of his brain.

This was it.

He was done.

He was too sick of everyone being sick of him. Burning the photo was like burning the last piece of his happiness. He strangely felt almost free; as though a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders he no longer had the burden of the conflicting emotions holding him down. Spain could have his brother, granted that he would need to get the potato bastard's permission, which he never would, but they would certainly be a lot closer without Romano in the way, messing things up, breaking his furniture.

He moved silently, fox like, to the corner of the room. Trying to avoid attracting the attention of the idiotas in the living room just below him, not that they would care enough to come and see him, but still, he had to be careful.

He lowered himself to the floor and carefully opened the artfully crafted box in the corner. It was as gift from Italy, handcrafted to perfection, naturally. To Romano it was simply proof of all the things that Italy could do which he couldn't. He had tried to recreate the box once to give to Spain as a gift to show that he wasn't _completely_ useless, but it had come out looking like a gnarled and chipped lump, nowhere near to the intricate detail that Italy had artfully carved into his. He had thrown it into a bush in the forest, near to where he had hidden from Spain all those years ago. It was where he hid all of his failures, of which there were many, it was the hiding place of all of the things he had attempted to make for Spain that had come out looking like a kindergarten art project , minus the macaroni.

He pulled out the knife that he had kept stored in the box, careful not to cut himself. He didn't know why he was being so careful, considering what he was about to do, but that didn't seem to matter at the moment. He wondered what Italy's reaction would be if he knew what Romano had been storing in his gift. _'He would probably cry' _thought Romano bitterly. _'Not over me of course, over wasting his damn perfect box on me. Damn idiota.' _

He delicately raised the knife against the wrist on his right hand, blocking out all sound and closing his eyes. He exhaled deeply though his nose and just as he was about to bring the knife down, he froze.

'_A note, I should write a note. Not that the bastards will read it, but just… just in case they do.'_

He swiftly places the knife back into the box and crossed the room to his desk, pulling out a piece of paper and a fountain pen he scrawled out a quick note, the page quickly becoming dotted with his tears.

I'm sorry for being useless.

I'm sorry for not being Italy.

I'm sorry for being me.

He placed down the pen and scooped up the note. He crossed back to the box and tucked it inside, picking the knife back up. He put it back in place against his wrist, tears falling despite the almost unnatural calm that he felt.

The door slammed open and a laughing Spain entered his room walking backward and apparently calling goodbye to Romano's fratello. Romano quickly slipped the knife out of sight up his sleeve as Spain spun around and flopped himself down to sit on Romano's bed.

"Hey Roma~!" he sang, then paused, noticing the tears that were pouring down Romano's face, "Romano…" he said, calling him his full name for once in his life. "What's wrong?"

'_Well shit'_

~V~P~T~

**A/N:** **Sorry this chapter is so much shorter; I just wanted to end it on a bit of a cliff hanger! Of course I would love it if you tell me what you think. Also, I haven't actually edited it so… it's probably a mess XD**

**Thanks! **

**VPT~ **^J^ (look its Russia :D)


	3. blame

Chapter 3:

**A/N: Okay… so this took longer than 2 days to get out, but I'm hoping that the extra speedy update last time made up for it? I hope so -~- I realize that Romano is OOC but… Meh. I think he would be a much less interesting character in the anime if he was weaker than he is. This is simply my own creation of a Romano with a tilted personality. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews! **** Okay! On with the story! BTW this will probably be the second last chapter for this story. (I got inspiration)**

~V~P~T~

"N-nothing you bastard. Uscire **(leave)**." Romano wiped furiously at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, careful to keep the arm with the knife tucked next to it slightly behind his back.

"Dime **(tell me)**, Romano" Spain slipped off of the bed and onto the floor next to him, concern was prominent in his gaze, concern and what Romano could have sworn was love. He brushed that thought away. There was no way in hell that this _bastardo_ could care about him. It was impossible. The only thing that the green eyed man probably cared about was how his being sad might affect little Italy, or perhaps it was that he just looked so much like his _adorable _little brother, Romano didn't truly know what it was, just that those were the only things that it could possibly be.

"There is nothing to tell, you tomato bastard, so just _lasciami in pace! __**(leave me alone)**__" _Romano was almost shouting by the end of his sentence. He just wanted Spain to leave, but he had no luck. Spain just shuffled himself closer, reaching his hand out partway, as though to touch Romano. He dropped it to the floor just at the last second.

"I am not going to leave you alone Romano. _Dime." _Spain looked so worried, and desperate to help the little Italian. He could not imagine anything worse than his little Romano being sad. But Romano was not going to crack so easily. He was going to put up a fight. Oh yes, he would show Spain just how _passionate _Italians could be.

He kicked his leg out, catching Spain in the side, and lept to his feet. "_bastardo!" _he screamed throwing his heavy door open and attempting to drag Spain out into the sunlit hallway. "I said GET OUT!" Spain was a lot heavier than he expected, and his arms were far too weak to drag the bastard out into the hallway. He only managed to successfully drag the Spaniard about an inch across the floor.

"Roma."

Romano vaguely heard his name being called, but chose to ignore it completely, choosing instead to continue throwing some well-chosen curses.

"_Roma." _

Spain raised his voice slightly, but to no avail. Romano started to continually head-butt him in the chest, trying to force him to leave. That was when Spain ran out of his supposedly endless patience.

"_ROMANO" _

Spain grabbed the angry, crying Italian's wrists and forced to him to stop his movements.

"_Let me go Bast_-" Romano cut himself off quickly and he looked up into Spain's angry face. Spain's eyes were dark as he stared down at the smaller male, his face was tense and he stared the Italian down into the ground.

"S-Spain?" the question was asked timidly, his voice thick with fear. What if this was all it had taken for Spain to get completely sick of him? For him to realize how much better he'd be without him?

"_Romano._" His voice was dark, layered thickly with his anger. "_Would you care to tell me what that is?"_

Shifting his hands, Spain placed both of Romano's delicate wrists into one of his large hands and pointed to something in the floor of Romano's rooms.

It was the knife.

'_merda,' _Roma thoughts were panicked. '_it must have slipped out while I was fighting this batard.'_

He turned his head back to face Spain. Staring straight at his chest and avoiding all eye contact. He spoke in a very small voice and almost whimpered

"A kn-knife."

"Correct. And what, exactamente **(exactly) **is a _knife_ doing in your room, hmm?" Spain's long fingers reached out and delicately lifted Romano's chin, his eyes bore down into the ones of the smaller Italian.

"I-I-I don't know…" Romano winced at the obvious lie. Despite what many people think, Spain is _not_ and idiot. He could read the signs, and these signs were lit up like they were in Vegas.

" I think that I may have an idea mi tomate," pulling Romano's pale arms in front of his face, Spain examined them, a small frown on his face and his eyebrows drawn together,

"There are n-no s-scars if that is what you are looking for…"

Spain's face contorted slightly, expressing an emotion that Romano couldn't quite put his finger on. Relief, pain, worry, and sadness were the ones which were notably visible. Sighing softly and letting his eyes fall closed, Spain pulled Romano gently onto his lap. Romano only struggled for a moment before relenting and allowing himself to sink into the comfort of Spain's arms and gather all of the comfort he could from being surrounded by Spain's scent, which smelled, unsurprisingly, of tomatoes.

"Roma…" Spain murmured into Romano's hair, "Please, tell me _por que?_ **(why)**"

Shaking slightly in the strong arms enveloping him, Romano lifted his head from where it rested on Spain's chest and instead buried in his neck, his forehead getting tickled slightly by tendrils of Spain's silky hair.

"I-I-I didn't want to feel so… unwanted any more…"

"Unwanted? _Unwanted_? Why would you be feeling even a little bit unwanted Mi Tomate. You are the only one that I want."

Laughing bitterly, Romano lifted his head from the crook of Spain's shoulder and turned his tear-stained face away to face toward his bay window, looking out upon the expanse of blue sky outside, the sun shining in bright contrast with the dark mood inside the bedroom.

"Why would I be feeling unwanted. Hmmm let me think," Romano's anger was fast returning, "maybe the fact that everyone always chooses my brother over me. Even you. Even _you_ of all people. I thought that you might have been the one that I could trust to hold onto me, but even you want to exchange me for my fratello. Idiota! Think! Think of how many fucking times I've been compared to or overlooked in favor of my little brother. It's not even that I haven't tried, because god knows I've tried _so hard_," Romano barked out a harsh laugh, "but it never seems to make a difference. I'll always just be the forgotten, _pathetic_, angry, mean, _heartless_ brother, who can't paint, or cook, or clean, or draw, or fight, or be even a_ little_ fucking friendly. But you know what?"

Romano's nails were biting deeply down into his palms, drawing hot blood to the surface. "I can't really be as fucking heartless as everyone seems to think, because if I were heartless, the dislike and rejection wouldn't be hurting so much. If, just once, I was chosen over my brother for _something, _anything, it would make all the difference in the world to me. But that'll never happen will it. That'll never fucking happen. So you can stop pretending to like me, stop pretending to be interested in my well-being, because I know the truth. Always have really. And I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, for wasting your time, but I'm done with pretending. I'm just done."

Spain allowed Romano to get it all out, just sitting by quietly and watching him. The emotions flitting across his face too quickly to be seen. After Romano had completely finished, there was a kind of echoing silence, the type that always seems to be far too loud. This silence was so loud it was deafening. Turing his head back to face the green silk covered chest, Romano sighed, yet again, and dropped his head forward onto his shoulder.

"Say something bastardo,"

The silence still reigned in the room. Nothing was said, there was no movement, nothing. Romano would have said that he could hear a pin drop, but only if he were able to hear anything over the deafening pounding of his heart. To Romano, Spain's silence was all the answer he needed. It was blindingly obvious that Spain was not going to deny a thing that Romano had just said, or rather, yelled. It was such an obvious confession that suddenly; Romano couldn't stand to stay in that suffocating room any longer. He prepared himself to fight his way out of Spain's iron grasp, but just before his plan could commence, Spain did talk. But it was nothing like what Romano thought he would say.

Spain stood suddenly, holding Romano bridal style, and whispering, "Come with me,"

The way that he said it left no room for argument, and, without waiting for any sort of response, Spain stood quickly, holding Romano bridal style. Romano squeaked in surprise at the sudden movement, but just as he looked up at the taller man's face to berate and insult it to his heart's content, he caught sight of the expression on Spain's face, and wisely decided to keep his mouth shut.

Spain had never looked so serious, or at the very least Romano had never seen him ever look as serious as he did then, standing in Romano's organized bedroom, knife on the floor, Italian in his arms. And without any further words spoken between the two nations, Spain swept from the room into the hall.

What in god's name was going on?

~V~P~T~

ლ(= з =)ლ (≖ヮ≖) *(´ヮ`)~* ** Bad touch trio 3 (I don't know if all of the symbols show up, but if they don't, I assure you, the bad touch trio are completely adorable XD)**

**I seriously thought that this was going to be a three chapter story… *shrugs* oh well, I'm sure no one is complaining. The plot bunnies just swarmed me and beat their little inspiration drums. Or wait… was that just my energizer bunny? I could probably have just made this a really long chapter and finished the story, but that would have taken too long for my poor lazy brain to write D: But for sure, the next chapter is the last one. Unless it's not. **** I'm not actually supposed to be on my laptop right now… so I should probably just finish up and go. Thanks!**

**Please review away! I would definitely appreciate it.**


	4. deliverance

Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello! Thanks for pointing out the weird standing Spain thing! I'm sorry about that and I'll get round to fixing it eventually. This will definitely be the last chapter. I'm not gonna change it up again anymore. I have a lovely clear image in my head and that's the way it'll go. Probably. Sorry about how incredibly late this chapter is. I wanted to get it done before I went to L.A, but as you can see, that really didn't happen**

~V~P~T~

Spain maneuvered Romano gingerly out into the hallway, being careful not to hit his head against the narrow wall. Spain had an incredibly determined expression on his face, his strut was exceedingly purposeful, not at all deterred by the large pile of boxes and random objects that were scattered promiscuously around the end of the dimly lit hallway, remnants of the party Spain had thrown in celebration of his birthday yesterday.

Staring up in confusion at the older mad, Romano wondered aloud what in gods name the Spaniard thought he was doing. Smiling, Spain simply answered "Awe. Roma, you look so cute when you're confused."

"who's fault do you think that is?" Retorted Romano, "Stupid bastard…" Despite the harshness of his words, Romano blushed deeply, his entire face lighting up like a Christmas tree, or, as Spain would say, a tasty little tomato. He never got used to hearing the Spaniard speak like that, and he was well aware that he would never match up to the cuteness of his brother. N-not that he wanted to or course, who would want to look like that idiot? Certainly not Romano…

Smiling slightly, Spain ignored Romano's pout in favour of simply continuing on down the corridor. Before long they stopped just outside a door, the sudden stop startling Romano and causing his to tightly dig his nails into Spain's shirt. "Idiota! Don't fucking do that."

It was then that Romano fully realized which room they were standing outside of. It was the room Romano had been doing his best to avoid going in, and he was doing a damn good job of it too. Simply being in the vicinity of the room brought up the painful memories. Whenever Spain asked why Romano never came to his office, Romano would simply reply that the man was an idiot and that he just didn't like being anywhere near anything relating to the Spaniard If he could help it. It had been 7 long years since he had gone in the room and personally, Romano was fine with that. In fact, Romano could probably just stay holed up in his room like the houses darkest secret. Granted, of course, that he had a basket of never ending, never rotten tomatoes for company.

Swinging the door open, Spain walked slowly into the room and placed Romano on his feet. Before Romano had a chance to examine his surrounding, he was swung around and found himself face to face with Spain's rather muscular chest. The taller man gripped Romano's chin in his calloused hand, tilting his face until he could see Spain's emerald green eyes.

"What are you doing bastardo?" Roma scowled angrily up at the Spaniard.

Silently, Spain continued to stare intently at Romano's chocolate brown eyes. This went on for longer than was really necessary before Romano reared back and prepared to head-butt the other man for being stupid. Spain smoothly caught the shorters shoulders and prevented him from making contact. Spain forced the angry Italians face up towards him once again. Their eyes burned into each other. Opening his mouth to make what would have been an undoubtedly scathing comment, Romano was, to his annoyance, interrupted the tomato bastard.

"Do you really think I don't care about you?" Spain laughed softly, regretfully, tracing Romano's cheek with the tips of his fingers. "Well, Mi Tomate, I guess I'll just have to prove you wrong."

With that, Spain spun the now confused and slightly irritated Italian around one hundred and eighty degrees, till he was pointing towards Spain's office. Or at least that was what he was expecting to see, instead what he was faced with looked more like an art gallery of sorts, with sculptures filling the shelves and a plethora of paintings covering the wall, each bordered by the most lovely and unique, expensive looking frame. Every inch of the room contained some form of artistic piece; smaller sculptures even lined the edge of Spain's desk, which was neatly stacked with paperwork. The most shocking thing about the colourful room however, wasn't the sheer number of artistic works that filled the office, it was that each work was one that had been done by Romano himself.

Romano stood, open mouthed, staring around the room. He felt overwhelmed; shock had put its hand to his throat and made breathing very difficult. Slowly, as the initial surprise wore off, Romano became aware of the heavy hand that was resting on his shoulder. spinning around in such a way that Spain's hand went from one shoulder to the other without ever leaving his body, he turned his wide eyed stare up at the handsome man behind him. Spain laughed happily at the reaction he was receiving, the look on the Youngers face was one of the cutest he'd ever seen.

Romano's mouth opened and closed rapidly looking like a fish out of water, apparently lost for words.

"Ho-how?" was all that he managed to stutter out.

"It was very easy, Roma, I once saw you rushing out into the woods just outside, carrying what looked to me like a painting, so naturally I followed! I wanted to make sure my little Roma was safe~" He reached out and pulled the Italian, whose defenced had been lowered in the wake of the surprise, to his chest in a hug. "You never noticed I was there, Mi Tomate, which isn't surprising as I was being very quiet. That's where I saw a very shocking sight! My adorable little tomate was throwing his beautiful painting into a bush! Which is no place for a painting as lovely as that one is, so after you had returned to the house I went to retrieve it, and imagine my surprise when I looked behind the bush and saw not only the painting, but also all of these other beautiful works of art," Spain waved his hand around the room. "Naturally, I had to keep them, so I took them home and placed them all in my office. I have collected every piece that has ever gone in that bush, and That," He stoked Romano's hair gently, looking serious, "is because I love you. I love you so much Romano." Romano was shocked by the usage of his full name, which only ever happened when the Spaniard was being completely serious. "But Roma… why did you throw them away? Why didn't you give them to me like you were planning to? And I know you were going to, some of the sculptures had my name on them." Eyes hardening ever so slightly, Romano pushed himself slightly away from the other man his lips forming a scowl.

"Because, bastardo, if they weren't Stupid Feli's, why would you want to have anything to with them? They were never nearly as good as his were, of course they weren't. Because who could ever compete with his perfect paintings, and sculptures , and carvings, and-" Romano's words were cut short as a warm hand pressed down across his lips. Resisting the instinctual reaction of biting the offending hand as hard as he could, he instead, looked up at the green eyed Spaniard from under his bangs.

"Roma…" Spain spoke softly, gently. "It's not a competition. It never was. And even if it was, in my eyes _you_ would win every time. I love you, Roma, not your brother, _you_. I'm sorry for all of the stupid things I did when we were younger, but there is nothing I am more thankful for than having you with me, I'm never going to let you go."

Romano's face was bright red, but for once Spain didn't comment on it, he instead chose to lean down and press his lips softly against Romano's, cupping his face in one of his hands and tangling his hand in the smaller man's chestnut hair. Romano responded positively, standing on tiptoe and wrapping his delicate arms around the elder's neck, pulling them closer together. They stood like this for what felt like hours, but was probably just a couple of minutes, until their warm mouths separated, an embarrassed Romano immediately burying his face into Spain's shoulder, a move that pulled a pleasant laugh from the Spanish man.

"I love you Roma, so no more knives okay? I don't know what I'd do if I lost you and just the thought of you _hurting_ yourself makes me shudder." The arms around Romano tightened to emphasize his point.

Burying his head in the soft, sweet-smelling hair in front of him, He once again whispered "I love you."

"Shut up bastardo, I _know_!" Muttered Romano, his words muffled by the silk shirt in front of him. There were a few beats of silence before, the Italian pressed himself even further into Spain's warm embrace and a barely audible

"I love you too…Idiota" reached Spain's ears. Spain smiled into the chestnut locks. He was never letting go.

**~V~P~T~**

**A/N: Well that was finally the last chapter! I'm not particularly pleased with this Chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it! Please be sure to leave a review, and tell me honestly what you think. No flames please!**


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